


Only then, you'll see the world all brand new

by forgetmenotjimmy



Series: Can You Hear Me? [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bonding, Brief Mention of Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dark, Dehumanization, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Slade Wilson, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Jericho Wilson, Implied/Referenced Torture, Psychological Torture, References to Depression, Road Trips, Some Humor, Suicide Attempt, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Jericho dies and the Titans disband. After everyone leaves, Dick shuts down the main computer, gets a gun they’d confiscated from a criminal he’d forgotten to hand in to the police and goes to sit in his bathtub.He doesn’t know how long he sits there, crying and praying for forgiveness. Desperately wishing for Death as hard as he wants someone to find him.Eventually, someone does.Version 4: Deathstroke (and Jericho). Proceed with caution: this one gets dark.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Joseph Wilson, Jericho Wilson & Slade Wilson
Series: Can You Hear Me? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014393
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. You can't hold on to what's gone

**Author's Note:**

> _Everything has an end,  
>  Even the lives of family and friends.  
> Everything has an end,  
> Even when it doesn't make sense.  
> You can't hold on to what's gone,  
> Don't try to fix it, just move on.  
> Only then, you'll see the world all brand new.  
> After the sun has had its rest,  
> It will arise, and light up the sky!  
> You can't hold onto what's past,  
> Nothing is made to last. _\- 'Everything Ends', from_ A Very Potter Senior Year_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for trigger warnings. If you're still interested in the concept, also explained in the end note, but want to avoid possible triggers, you can skip to chapter 2 where you can see the aftermath with only the vaguest of references to them.  
> Unbeta'd so let me know if you spot anything.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> :D

One advantage of having his son’s consciousness in his head was having access to his memories. Grayson hadn’t covered the panel when he’d input the entry code to the Tower so Jericho had seen. Sloppy. 

_He trusted me._

Ignoring his son’s admonishment, and lament, Slade gripped his sword in the elevator. Although he’d watched the other Titans leave earlier, he couldn’t be sure if there wasn’t some kind of trap waiting for him. Sure, he’d faked his own death but one could never be too careful. Even when dealing with teenage capes playing at being heroes.

_They are heroes._

The elevator arrived on the right floor, again thanks to Jericho’s memory, and Slade peered out. He couldn’t hear anything and the air was still. Cautiously, he crept down the corridor and into the main living space. Everything was covered in sheets and the lights were off. 

For a moment, Slade contemplated the idea that Grayson had left out of another exit. As he stalked forward though, Slade heard something on the edge of his perception. Following the noise, he went down a hallway Jericho’s memories supplied were bedrooms. 

Slade held back a snort as he recognized the sound. Grayson was crying, was he? As if he had any right to mourn the boy he’d killed.

_No, you did that!_

Pushing down the guilt at his son’s accusation, Slade approached the right door. He told himself that it had been Grayson who’d led Jericho astray, Grayson who’d gone back on his word and entered the church, Grayson who’d filled his son’s head with enough lies and fantasies so as to turn him against his own father.

Using his superior hearing, Slade pinpointed the sound as coming from a tiled room and so stalked silently through the bedroom. Unease and panic welled up but he pushed them down. His son’s feelings didn’t matter: Slade would kill Grayson. He unsheathed his sword and held it in a ready position.

The bathroom door was open enough that Slade could step through without moving it but he froze once at the threshold. The scene that greeted him was so bizarre, it took a moment to process.

Grayson was indeed crying, sobs wracked his frame and tears poured down his face; but what was surprising was the gun pressed against his temple. Did he even know how to use one?

_No! Dick, don’t!_

Jericho’s thought definitely wasn’t spoken out loud but it must have caused Slade to make a noise because Grayson’s head snapped around and he flinched. His mouth opened slightly but no sound came out. Slade had recovered from the surprise and was weighing up his options. Was murdering a suicidal person really revenge? Perhaps he should just leave and let Grayson contine?

“You’re dead.” Grayson said eventually.

Slade grinned under his mask. “Is that right?” He sheathed his sword.

Grayson blinked and then snapped into action, scrambling to his feet and swinging the gun to point at Slade. Prepared, Slade struck out and disarmed Grayson easily. He dragged the boy out to the bedroom and tackled him to the floor, pressing the gun to the back of his head.

“Why fake it?” Grayson asked, voice partly muffled by his face being so close to the carpet.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Slade answered as he ziptied Grayson’s wrists and then ankles. 

He stood, watching as Grayson wiggled onto his side and glared up at him.

“Why do you care anyway? If you were about to check yourself out?” Slade asked.

Grayson averted his gaze and didn’t reply.

_Please let him go._

Snarling, Slade said. “You killed my son.”

Grayson closed his eyes and lowered his head to the ground. The sight of the so-called hero so defeated should have filled Slade with vindictive joy. Instead he just felt pity.

No, that was all Jericho.

_We can help him._

_What’s to help? Even if I don’t kill him, he’ll do it himself. Either way he’ll die._

_Not if we help!_ Jericho insisted. _Please, dad! For me? Will you try?_

For the first time in a week, Jericho wasn’t numb or cold or angry. Hope expanded in Slade’s chest, a hint of future happiness dangling just in front of him. Yes, he was unspeakably angry at the conman at his feet, but if he could do something for his son…

Biting back a sigh, Slade agreed. He ignored Jericho’s heartfelt thanks and set his mind to the task. Although the Tower seemed to be mostly off-line, he’d need to check for cameras and scrub them if necessary. Slade had never met the Bat of Gotham in person but his reputation was such Slade didn’t want the hassle of dealing with him.

After making preparations, Slade dragged Grayson down to the garage and threw him into the trunk of the only car left, a rather nice Porsche, the man’s duffle going into the backseats. Slade couldn’t replicate footage of Grayson leaving of his own accord but anyone looking for the man would hopefully assume the cameras had glitched as he’d departed. Everything else would appear as normal.

Grayson had only made token efforts to escape and had barely whimpered when Slade had injected him with some tranqs to keep him quiet during the drive. 

Slade drove to a motel outside the city, one he knew didn’t have working cameras, and booked a room for the night. It was also the kind of place where no one looked twice at you walking an either drunk or drugged up person to your room. Once settled, Slade tied Grayson up again and gagged him, though he made sure to keep an ear out in case the boy started choking or vomiting.

He called Wintergreen, relishing the warmth of Jericho’s tentative hope. Slade didn’t say much over the phone, just ordering Wintergreen to come over and bring certain pieces of tech with him. 

_He’ll probably need therapy._ Jericho was thinking. _Hey, can I talk to him? I want to talk to him._

Bitter rage clawed up Slade’s throat and he all but growled at Jericho in his head. 

On the ground, Grayson twitched. Unable to help himself Slade knelt over him, ripping out his gag and taking his chin, making him look up at his captor.

“Listen up, scum. You may have killed his body, but his mind lives on.” Slade tapped his temple. “In here.”

Grayson’s face paled and he slurred. “Jericho?”

“Yes, he’s the only reason you’re still alive. Though you don’t deserve his pity.”

Grayson struggled up to sitting, looking more alert. Slade shifted back to let him as Jericho’s hope intensified.

“Jericho.” Grayson whispered, pain and longing mingling in his expression. “Can I…?”

Slade growled out loud. “He doesn’t want to speak to you.”

_What? Dad!_

Grayson’s eyes lowered for a moment before he looked up again. “There are ways to get him back! Magic-users in the League-”

“Ha! The League? As if I’m trusting those jokes with my son’s existence!”

He pushed Grayson back down to the ground and gagged him again.

 _You said you’d help him!_ Jericho cried.

Slade ignored him, focusing on checking his equipment and rummaging through Grayson’s bag for any bugs.

Wintergreen joined them later, bringing some more tech with him. They scanned Grayson and found two trackers, though neither seemed to be actively giving off signals.

Slade hadn’t wanted to explain about Jericho taking shelter in his mind, so he’d merely said that Jericho’s last wish had been that Grayson was looked after.

“That much harder when he keeps trying to off himself.” He commented with a sneer.

“Now that would be a shame.” Wintergreen shook his head. “To throw away all that training.”

Slade froze, mind working. It was true that Grayson was highly skilled... He looked the boy over: he was young, healthy, physically fit and combat-trained. The perfect host…

_No!_

Hiding a wince at the volume of his son’s shout, Slade turned to his oldest friend.

“Why don’t we put it to good use?”

Wintergreen raised an eyebrow but listened silently to Slade’s idea. At their feet, Grayson began to tremble.

Course of action decided: Slade made arrangements. He cut out the two trackers under Grayson’s skin and found a convincing lookalike living in Detroit who was down on his luck. Wintergreen made contact and cut a deal: the man, Jeff Baker, would carry the trackers on him at all times and receive a handsome monthly allowance. The other conditions were that he didn’t leave the country or draw attention to himself; keep the same coffee shop job, don’t post any selfies to social media accounts, no TV or internet appearances and no making the paper.

Handily, Graysons’ phone was untraceable so Slade kept it with him to field any enquiring messages or calls. The message Slade had sent out, explaining Grayson was taking some time to ‘figure some things out’, hadn’t seemed to have raised any suspicion. Only two people, Alfred and ‘Babs’, had even responded: both with supportive messages.

He was under no illusion that the ruse would last indefinitely, if anyone decided to visit rather than watch the double through poor quality CCTV cameras they’d realize immediately, but it didn’t need to. 

He just needed enough time to cut Grayson out and put Jericho in.

...

In the end, it took three years. 

Although resistant at first, Grayson was easily subdued by video footage of the Dove through Wintergreen’s sniper lens. He agreed to not attempt escape and even called a few contacts to convince them he was fine. Of course Slade still took precautions: chaining Grayson up at night, fitting him with a shock collar and generally not letting his guard down around him. Though beaten down, the boy was still dangerous.

The main obstacle was finding a method that would erase Grayson’s personality without damaging his subconscious mind or body. Traditional torture or brainwashing techniques carried too many risks or long term effects to be very useful.

At one point Slade heard of a cult that used various chemicals and treatments to create mindless assassins. He investigated further and was impressed by the results. There wasn’t any data on the long-term effects though - as the slaves never lasted long - and ultimately he wouldn't want his son occupying a body that had been conditioned by another party.

Magic was another option, though Slade couldn’t find anyone trustworthy. Magic-users were tricky enough as it was and usually Slade gave them a wide berth. He made some enquiries but ultimately decided against pursuing those options.

After much consideration, he settled for good old fashioned conditioning, isolation and dehumanization.

For conditioning he used the shock collar and video footage of the Titans and League members to cause the boy to associate his old allies with pain; he’d point out how long it had been since the boy had been taken and how no one had even noticed, let alone cared. The boy’s depression made that belief all the easier to accept, as well as the solitary confinement doled out as punishment for resistance.

Once Grayson showed enough fear, Slade started referring to him as ‘the Body’ because that’s what he was. He shaved the boy’s head, dressed him in black combat gear and went long stretches without talking to him - instead watching on the monitors as the Body completed daily training and workouts alone. Whenever the Body answered direct questions, his voice was small and cracked. Soon, Slade even stopped that: leaving the Body mute.

Grayson fought long and hard but in the end, Slade saw him fade away. In the space the conman left behind, the Body lingered.

Killing had been an issue at first, but once the Body had strangled a few puppies, shooting live targets came easier. Slade felt Jericho’s nausea too strongly to bring in human children, but he was confident the Body would comply even with them.

Years of hard work was paying off and Slade couldn’t be more satisfied. All the while his son raged and cried in his mind and all the while Slade ignored him.

Jericho would thank him one day.

…

Once Slade was satisfied with the Body’s performance, he started taking him out with him on missions. Both of them wore black, nondescript clothing with their faces covered and Slade would order the Body to hang back and observe. Weaponless, save for its limbs, the Body stood and watched as Slade murdered whoever needed murdering.

After a series of smooth hits over five months, they hit a snag on one job - more guards than Slade had been expecting and heavier hitters too. Injured and at risk of being overrun, Slade had shouted to the Body hiding in the shadows.

“Body! Protect me!”

A pause and then a dark shape had catapulted into the light, disarming an opponent and taking down another three at once. Slade and the Body fought in perfect tandem until the guards were either dead or dying.

“Good job, kid!” Slade had chuckled as the adrenaline drained from his limbs.

The Body just stood to attention, unbothered by the blood splatter on the borrowed baton he was holding and unresponsive to words that weren’t orders.

Remembering, Slade shook himself. He straightened and motioned for them to continue. He allowed the Body to keep the weapon and help him take out the scientist. The assassin had to tamp down on a flare of pride as the Body ignored the desperate pleas and performed a clean execution. 

_You’re evil._

Yes, everything was going so well. Except...One thing Slade hadn’t planned for was his son. He’d put the ‘convincing Jericho’ part of the plan on the backburner for a long time. Mostly because he wasn’t sure how. Even watching how low and degraded Grayson had become, seeing how little of the man he knew actually left, still Jericho resisted.

Slade would be proud at his conviction and tenacity if he wasn’t so annoyed. 

What Slade couldn’t risk was Jericho simply returning to the Titans once in possession of another body again. Not only would that leave Jericho vulnerable to their manipulations but also put him in danger of being ousted if the little heroes decided to prioritise trying to bring their old leader back.

No, Slade needed a way to ensure none of that could happen. He sat at the kitchen table in one of his underground safehouses, pondering his next course of action. The Body was sitting beneath him, cross-legged and eating its meal from a plate on the floor. Slade looked at it and a foreign memory flashed in front of his eyes: Jericho sitting with the Titans around a fire on the beach, laughing and drinking and so ha...

Aha, that was it. One final test and a powerful disincentive for his son to even consider running to those caped freaks.

The Body was going to kill the Titans.

 _No!_ Jericho screamed.

Irritated, Slade pushed his son back and rose from his seat.

“Body, prepare for a new mission.”

The Body snapped up, putting his plate on the side and turning to go to the equipment area. Slade reached out to take his mask from the table but his hand stopped mid-way. 

_What? Oh, Jericho, no!_

“Body,” Slade’s lips moved without his consent.

_Jericho, stop this._

The Body stopped and turned back, ready for instruction.

“Kill me.”

 _Are you insane?_ Slade raged as Jericho held him firm.

The Body didn’t move: confusion evident despite the lack of expression.

“Slice my throat, now!” Jericho yelled through Slade’s lips and the Body sprang into action. It took Slade’s katana from the table and unsheathed it.

_Son, this isn’t funny. You’ve made your point! I won’t make him hurt the Titans!_

Jericho didn’t answer.

 _Jericho!_ Slade thought as the Body swung and Slade’s throat opened. He barely felt any pain and staggered as Jericho lessened control enough for Slade to throw his hands up to the cut, trying to stem the blood.

As he dropped forward though, one of Slade’s hands gripped the Body and his eyes locked onto that blank stare. A moment of connection and then...

Slade’s mind was empty.

 _Jericho?_ He asked, even knowing that his son was gone.

The assassin fell to the floor and rolled over, staring up as he felt his life leaving him. His mouth opened but no sound came out. Blinking, he saw the Body crouch down over him.

Slade hadn’t seen Grayson that hate-filled in a long time. 

No, not Grayson.

_My son...hates me?_

That was the last thought Slade Wilson had as his world faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: suicide attempt, psychological torture including isolation, conditioning and dehumanization. Also referenced assassinations and one mild description of a murder.  
> Concept: Slade uses some of these tools to 'purge' Dick's personality so he can put Jericho into Dick's body. Jericho is against this but helpless to stop it. Finally Jericho takes control of Slade and orders Dick to kill Slade, then Jericho jumps into Dick as Slade is dying. From there he tries to help bring Dick back.


	2. Don't try to fix it, just move on

The worst part about his father’s plan, Jericho decided as he drove through the night, was that it had worked. Dick’s body was in peak physical condition, with lightning fast reactions and strength Jericho had never known as himself. He couldn’t approach the power of Slade’s body, but for an unenhanced human, Dick was one of the best.

Or had been. Despair cloaked itself over Jericho as he felt around the fog dividing their brainspace. All his father’s efforts had been successful: Dick Grayson wasn’t there anymore. At least, not like he had been.

The instincts, the knowledge, the frightening obedience, that was all there. Jericho merely had to request something or think about needing something and the Body would respond. Jericho hated using the moniker his father had given his old friend, but he couldn’t truthfully use any other name for the perfect host for Jericho to occupy unchallenged. 

A few times Jericho had stepped back, leaving complete control to the Body. Nothing had happened. They’d just stood still. The Body hadn’t done anything. Jericho could feel his presence and when asked questions, he’d respond, but otherwise the Body didn’t have any desire to do anything for himself.

 _Safe for now._ The Body had explained when Jericho had asked why he wouldn't take control.

Indeed, the only times the Body had taken over were when he thought there was danger and there wasn’t time for Jericho to be informed and act on his own. 

It had happened in the safehouse when they’d been disposing of Slade’s remains - the Body had heard a noise and thought Wintergreen was there so had leapt into a nearby vent. He’d made them wait in there for almost twenty minutes until he was satisfied they were really alone. Another time he’d thought they were being followed and had changed lanes suddenly to exit the highway.

While glad one of them was more than capable in an emergency, Jericho still felt unsettled by how abruptly the Body could push him aside. He’d extracted a promise from the Body that he would only do that in life threatening situations but still...

One thing gave Jericho hope though; the Body guarded its space relentlessly. Whenever Jericho wandered too far into the mist that divided their mental spaces, the Body would push him back. He wouldn’t - or perhaps didn’t know how to - explain why he did this. 

But logically, there had to be something in there worth protecting. Without knowing for sure what else, or who else, occupied that space, Jericho didn’t have to admit that Dick was really gone. 

Either way, he needed to find help. While the thought of rolling up to Wayne Manor and introducing himself did offer some comic potential, Jericho knew he would have to be tactful. Slade had taken great pains to conceal anything bad had happened to Dick. Jericho wasn’t sure, as Wintergreen had handled a lot of the details, but he had the impression Dick’s friends and family believed he was on an extended sabbatical. 

They hadn’t been able to find Dick’s phone before leaving the safehouse, meaning either Wintergreen had it or it was hidden in any number of secret locations. Part of the conditioning Slade had put Dick through meant it hurt the Body to think about old friends and allies, so he couldn’t even contemplate contacting them let alone remember any of their numbers or addresses.

Before they’d left, the Body used his father’s computer to find Jericho’s mom and plan their route. Jericho had also asked to check for any relevant news.

There wasn’t anything about Dick Grayson being listed as missing. It seemed that Slade’s and Wintergreen’s measures had been convincing enough for Dick’s loved ones. Though Jericho, knowing the truth of what had been happening, still hated them a little for not making more of an effort to check up on Dick and figure out something was wrong.

Another factor was the Body’s aversion to superheroes in general. Slade’s conditioning had gone further than just the Titans; the very idea of caped heroes was frightening for the Body and Jericho was left reeling from the storm of pain and anxiety every time he seriously considered trying to contact Batman or the League.

Further, even though Jericho had stopped the Titans from being hurt, that didn’t mean his father wasn’t entirely wrong to worry about their reactions. Technically, Jericho was possessing Dick without his consent, likely would do for a long time, and although he hadn’t agreed at all with his father’s plan, he hadn’t stopped it either. In fact, _he_ was the reason Slade had done all these heinous acts to a good person.

Although he'd only had good intentions when he'd begged his father to help when Dick was teetering on the edge of suicide, that hardly mattered considering the outcome.

Pushing down tears, Jericho forced himself to focus. There would be time for guilt and self-recrimination later.

First things first: the navigation system announced that they’d arrived. Jericho looked up at the house. It looked nice. Nicer than the place he and his mother had lived before.

Jericho swallowed, suddenly afraid. The Body jerked and Jericho had to tell him to stand down. There wasn’t any danger. Just nerves.

Breathing the tension out of his shoulders, Jericho got out and walked up to the front door. He knocked and waited, holding his breath.

His mother opened the door and Jericho’s heart swelled. She looked tired but she was his mom. Without thinking, he surged forward. 

She flinched back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Stopping short a step below the entrance, Jericho swallowed. “Sorry.” 

He signed as he spoke next. “Mom, it’s me. Jericho.” 

His mom suddenly looked furious. “Whoever you are, this isn’t funny-”

“No, Mom! It’s me! Remember my power?” 

She hesitated. 

“Before I died, I jumped into dad and then when he died, into Dick.” 

“One of his friends.” She said, almost to herself, eyes raking over Dick’s face. 

“Yeah, he was a Titan.” He swallowed and continued signing. “I’ve really missed you.”

“Jericho?”

“Hi, mom.” He signed his special sign for her.

Gasping, she threw her arms around him and clutched at him tightly. Feeling lighter than air, Jericho hugged her back. After three and a half years in a nightmare, he’d made it home.

At the kitchen table with some strong coffee, Jericho told her everything. It didn’t take long to explain, especially as he skipped over a lot of the anguish he’d felt and details of exactly what Slade had done. His mom listened more or less silently, squeezing his hand when the emotions got too much.

“Are you sure that Slade’s…?”

“Yes, we burned him to ash.” Jericho replied, the flames dancing in his mind and the grim satisfaction lingering in his heart.

“Good.” His mom spoke with the fierceness she usually kept hidden. It faded as quickly as it had come and she hugged him again. “I still can’t believe you’re really here! And you got away from him.” 

“I missed you so much.” Jericho said again, pouring all his love into his arms...No, Dick’s arms. Heart falling, he pulled back.

His mom read his expression perfectly. “This friend...Dick, was it? Is he…?”

Jericho pressed his lips together. “I’m not sure what’s left of him. Dad did some really messed up stuff but I think Dick is in here somewhere. I just need to find him.”

“And if you do? Then what?”

Jericho shrugged. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

...

Jericho stayed with his mom for two months; both of them basking in the simple pleasures of living together and Jericho learning everything that had happened to his mom in the intervening time.

As happy as they were, however, their new reality couldn't be denied. Although frighteningly obedient, the Body still took some getting used to. It was almost always alert and dropping into a fighting stance at the slightest unexpected noise. However, Jericho always managed to quickly soothe him and they both became accustomed to his mother’s routine and neighborhood sounds.

He also seemed to have boundless energy. Jericho was forced to go for jogs - jogs! - around the block to keep the anxiety from building after being idle for too long. On a few occasions he’d had the urge to go up to the roof and leap across the city, somersaulting and grappling, feeling the wind through his hair and _flying_ -

Then there was the sleep walking. Jericho didn’t remember anything about Dick or the Body walking around in their sleep; though as they’d usually been locked in their ‘room’, maybe Slade had just never noticed it. Jericho found out about it from his mother, getting an earful one morning about the fright she’d received the night before.

Apparently she’d woken to find the Body in her bedroom, staring out of the window.

When she’d gotten up and asked what was happening, the Body had replied. “Perimeter sweep. House secure.”

Then he’d padded out silently.

“How did you know it wasn’t me sleepwalking?” Jericho asked.

Adeline shivered. “The way he spoke and walked, like a robot.” She eyed Jericho. “You need to be careful.”

“He won’t hurt me.” Of that Jericho was 100% certain.

His mother pursed her lips. “You didn’t tell him to do a perimeter sweep, did you?”

That brought Jericho up short. No, he hadn’t. But that was just protocol or instinct. Nothing unusual about that.

He said as much.

Adeline shook her head. “He’s _not_ a robot, Joey, or a normal bodyguard. You can’t shut him off. You can’t reason with him. What if someone bumps into you in the street and he kills them?”

Jericho frowned. “Dick wouldn’t-”

“He’s not your friend!” Adeline insisted. “You don’t even know _what_ he is.”

_Very true._

“I’m trying.” Jericho said finally. 

And it was true as well; he had tried a lot of different things to coax Dick out of hiding: listening to his old records Dick said he liked, watching Dick’s favorite movies, looking at pictures of birds, reading about Haly’s circus and the old performers. Anything connected to Dick’s old life that didn’t cause them both pain.

Sometimes he felt something stirring in their subconscious, but nothing substantial.

Jericho was running out of ideas and his vague hope that repeated attempts to think about the Titans would improve the Body’s panicked reactions was fading.

He couldn’t do anymore from his mom’s house. With the Body’s help, he found out that Haly’s Circus had closed many years before and located the current residences of the ex-circus members.

Armed with names and addresses on a small notepad, a tightly packed rucksack and a new sense of purpose, Jericho kissed his mother goodbye. She cried, but acknowledged he needed to find a solution.

Adeline looked right into their eyes and said. “Dick, if you can hear me, take care of my son.”

Jericho felt a shift in the fog and he stilled, barely daring to breathe. The moment passed. 

Jericho let out his breath and smiled sadly. “I’ll call.”

“You better.” Adeline replied, cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Getting into Slade’s sleek car, Jericho tried not to think about the weapons stashed in the boot; hard to do as the Body was mentally cataloguing them and running through the most efficient ways to access them in an emergency.

Jericho swatted the Body’s thoughts away and waved to his mom. She waved back and Jericho pulled away, continuing to glance at her in the rearview mirror until they turned a corner.

 _So,_ he thought, _now it’s just you and me._

There was a pause.

Then the Body began mentally counting the bullets they’d taken from the safehouse.

Jericho sighed.

...

Wintergreen found them at a gas station in Utah. 

Jericho had decided to head to Clayton Williams first, as his face had caused the strongest reaction from the fog. Read: any reaction. He didn’t know how to feel that Dick hadn’t reacted to any of the others because he must have known then for years. Was there no emotion left? Or was it just too difficult for him to express it?

So Jericho had decided to drive to Milwaukee from his mom’s house in Nevada; make it a road trip both to have some fun and to get used to other people before he, and the Body, met someone from Dick’s past. Jericho had never been on one and doubted Dick had either. 

The Body definitely hadn’t.

The Body did not like it.

 _Possible aggressor on our six._ The Body would think whenever someone was walking behind them at a gas station, down the street, in a store. He would hurry Jericho along whenever he stopped to chat to anyone and stare out of the car window for long minutes before allowing Jericho to leave.

If Jericho thought the Body was annoyingly protective at his mom’s house, in the open he was like a militaristic mother-bear.

 _So overBEARing!_ Jericho joked in his head that fateful morning just outside Salt Lake City. 

The Body just gave the all clear and Jericho sighed, getting out of the car. He needed someone else to talk to, fast. 

Mechanically, he filled up the car and trudged into the store, looking over the magazine rack. There was the usual fare, nothing really interesting, but their phone was almost dead and they were a long drive away from the closest safehouse. Jericho had bargained an hour’s break from driving with the Body on the proviso that he not make small talk with anyone in the store and park the car somewhere with clear lines of sight. So Jericho wanted something to read.

Suddenly, the Body took over and ducked them behind the nearest aisle.

 _What is it?_ Jericho asked, heart beginning to race.

The Body didn’t answer, instead concentrating on listening to the sounds of someone on the other side of the aisle. 

“I know you’re there. Why don’t you come out and we can have a nice talk outside?”

 _Uncle Will? It’s okay. He won’t hurt us._ Jericho said.

The Body hesitated but then handed back control.

Jericho came out, slightly nervous despite what he’d told the Body. Uncle Will looked the same as always, though his expression was unsettling. Although his features were neutral, his eyes were burning.

They walked out of the store and around the back. The Body was watching Will’s every movement, as well as scanning his body for possible hidden weapons. Jericho sent a reassuring pulse that was almost immediately made ironic by Will turning and attacking.

The tussle was short but brutal, Jericho freezing and just left to watch as the Body dodged and weaved, finally pinning Will to the ground and twisting the dagger out of Will’s hand.

 _No!_ Jericho shouted and the Body paused, still leaning all his weight on Will, but waiting for instruction.

 _Let me speak to him_.

The Body disapproved, strongly, but after a moment relaxed its grip and let Jericho speak.

“Uncle Will. It’s me.”

Will stayed tense but cocked his head.

Jericho gave the Body a mental nudge. Reluctantly, the Body released Will though he backed away and few paces, and kept a firm grip on the dagger. Will got to his feet, eyeing the Body warily.

With the dagger-less hand, Jericho signed as he spoke. “It’s Jericho.”

Will’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t dismiss the claim. “How?”

Jericho explained about his power and how Slade wanted to use Dick’s body as a host for him.

“That thing killed him.” Will guessed, stance relaxing slightly as he believed Jericho’s story.

“No.” Jericho argued, rage swelling inside him. “I did. I hate him. I never wanted this. I wanted him to _help_ Dick, instead he…” Jericho was so incensed he couldn’t speak.

Will nodded, hands coming up in a surrender sign. “Okay, kiddo. But you have to know he loved you. I know it may not seem like it-”

“No.” Jericho had calmed enough to start speaking again. “I was in his head, Uncle Will. He thought he loved me and mom, but it was about control. He didn’t trust us to make our own decisions or respect us enough to honor them. I fought him for three and a half years, _begged him_ to stop, but he didn’t listen. That’s not love.”

Will thought about that for a moment, before asking. “So what are you going to do now?”

“Mostly trying to get used to this.” Jericho replied, not quite sure why he didn’t want to tell Will the truth.

Maybe sensing the lie, Will nodded slowly. “Well, I can’t say I agree with you on everything, Jericho, but if you need me…” He reached into his jacket, making the Body tense.

Jericho held him back though and they were rewarded by Will taking out a business card. Cautiously, Jericho took it. The Body watched as Will walked away, stalking around the building and staring until Will’s car disappeared into the distance.

Unease settled in Jericho’s gut even as he felt lighter - another piece of his past cast out.

...

Although Jericho believed that was that, the Body didn’t trust Will and that night, they both had dreams about Will coming to kill them. Bursting out of a nightmare, Jericho ran a shaking hand down his face. He looked at the map and asked the Body how he felt about national parks. They’d driven through some on their way to Salt Lake City, but Jericho thought some time away from people might be good for them. Just for a few days. 

It turned out that the Body really liked forests. Being up high, Jericho already knew about, but fresh, open spaces were pleasing to the Body as well. Sometimes, Jericho would see flashes of brightly coloured fabrics and smell hay. Once he even thought he heard an elephant’s trumpet at the very edge of his hearing.

Encouraged by some of Dick’s memories breaking the surface, Jericho slowed down and rented a cabin with his father’s money. 

For a week he and the Body trekked around the area, sat by the small lake by their cabin and warmed their fingers by a fire they’d built themselves. The Body was content by the lack of other people and relative security and Jericho was happy that the Body wasn’t so tense all the time. Alert, yes always, but not so tightly wound as he was around people.

In the evenings after the Body had patrolled the perimeter and they were safely locked away, Jericho would try coaxing Dick out. He’d brought some photos of the circus workers in costume, as well as an old programme he’d found online. As if shaken loose by the greenery around them, more memories of Dick’s old family flashed across Jericho’s mind’s eye.

Jericho would try to hold on to them and ask questions. Neither Dick nor the Body would answer, but Jericho felt like someone was listening.

It could have been the Body waiting for orders, or...

Feeling excited, Jericho took them North, through Wyoming. They went in an Eastern arc so were more or less travelling in the right direction, but day to day their path veered depending on either Jericho’s or the Body’s whims. Sometimes Jericho saw something interesting he thought they’d like to see, sometimes the Body would insist on avoiding an area for one reason or another.

When he had signal, Jericho checked in with his mom, reporting on the miniscule progress and hearing about her news. 

He mentioned the encounter with Will and his mom told him that Will had also contacted her to check she was alright. She told Jericho to be cautious, but that Wintergreen wasn’t the vengeful type. He might mourn Slade, but he wasn’t likely to come after Jericho or the Body.

Sometimes Jericho felt lost - he had more freedom, and responsibility, than he’d ever had and it was daunting at times. He worried about the choices he was making and if he was going about things the right way.

Luckily he had a goal and someone else to keep him company. 

As boring as most of their interactions were, Jericho knew the Body was an expression of part of Dick and he was the link to Dick’s buried self. Every tiny glimpse of Dick’s personality, be it memory fragments or a preference for high places, was so satisfying and encouraging.

Jericho was sure that together, they could figure it out.

...

A few months later, they were on the road again, near Illinois; Jericho having convinced the Body that they couldn’t stay in the wilderness forever and had to get used to being around people.

Parked outside a bus stop, the Body was performing his usual risk assessment of the area with Jericho mentally pacing as he’d been driving all morning. Finally, the Body gave the all clear and let Jericho jump out, waving his arms around and leaning this way and that to stretch out his limbs.

Recently, Jericho had discovered that the Body reacted to silliness. It wasn’t quite confusion or irritation and Jericho had convinced himself that the Body was experiencing mild amusement. So Jericho had made it his mission to make the Body laugh.

The Body suddenly turned them around and Jericho registered a streak of purple in dark hair before he heard the cry.

“You’re the boy from the circus!”

The Body didn’t move, downgrading his initial risk assessment but still not happy with someone speaking so directly to them without any socially acceptable reason.

“Uh,” Jericho scrambled to push past the military brain and reach for normalcy, “well, kind of.” He scratched the back of his head, wondering how this girl could have recognized Dick after years. The girl moved closer, eyes wide and desperate. Jericho felt uneasy and the Body even more so, telling Jericho she was a threat.

 _How?_ Jericho asked.

 _The air around her is dark._ The Body replied unhelpfully. 

“You have to help me!” The girl insisted, now close enough to touch. She reached out for Jericho’s hand. The Body took over and grabbed her wrist, pushing her hand back into her chest even as the world went dark.

Sounds and images flooded their mind. Jericho saw the Circus tent and his pare- _Dick’s_ parents swinging and then, then... _Dick was crying and fighting to get to them and a hand was on his shoulderIcanhelpyou-_

_A shift, everything going icy cold._

_You killed my son!...cold barrel of a gun against his head-the perfect host, electric shocks blazing through him, don’t talk-you’renotapersonrunfightPROTECTHIM!_

The girl jerked out of the Body’s grip and Jericho gasped, staggering back a few steps. He heaved in a few breaths, heart hammering against his chest.

The Body was completely silent. Jericho tentatively reached out and to his horror didn’t get any response.

“What did you do?” Jericho asked the girl, who shrunk back though she didn’t look completely undeterred.

“I didn’t...I didn’t know there were three of you in there.”

Jericho stared at her as his heart rate began to climb down.

The Body was right, there was something dangerous about her. Then Jericho looked again. She really was a girl. Though she dressed like a moody high schooler, she couldn’t have been that far into her teens.

The Body jostled for control, suddenly coming alive again, and Jericho just managed to order no violence before he was pushed back.

“What is your goal?” The Body asked.

The girl’s body language shifted to a more defensive one; she’d recognized that the speaker was different. 

For a moment she didn't speak, then she blinked rapidly. “They killed my mom. I’m just running, I don’t know where else-”

“Who?” The Body asked.

“I don’t know.” The girl hugged herself, biting her lip.

Pity swelled in Jericho. _She’s just a kid._

The Body took his eyes off the girl for a long moment, looking around the road and bus stop. He tensed but then looked back at the girl. 

_Our tail has a tail._ The Body told Jericho.

At Jericho’s inquiring noise, the Body showed a mental image of a man sitting in a car to the right of them. The man’s gaze focused on the girl.

 _Expand mission parameters?_ The Body asked.

 _Huh?_ Jericho asked, distracted by a single tear running down the girl’s face.

 _Protect the girl too?_ The Body clarified.

 _Yes! Include her in your protection._ Jericho ordered. Though he still had doubts about the threat the girl might pose, she needed help and had somehow seen into his head, seen the tangled mess of them all in there. She’d said _three_. This meeting couldn't have been a coincidence. Plus, Dick wouldn’t have hesitated to help her.

“Come.” The Body ordered, turning back to the car.

The girl sniffed and looked hopeful, though she didn’t move. Jericho mentally tapped the Body on the shoulder and took over.

“Come with us. We’ll keep you safe.” He said in a gentler tone.

The girl let out a little, relieved laugh and hurried to get into the passenger seat.

Jericho let the Body drive and after the Body was satisfied they’d lost the tail, took back control.

“He thinks we’ve lost the guy following you.” Jericho said.

The girl sat up and looked around. She’d been silent and still up until then, lost in her own thoughts.

“Don’t worry, the Body’s really good at this stuff.” Jericho reassured her. When she relaxed into her seat, he went on. “I’m Jericho, you’ve met the Body and the boy you knew about, Dick, he’s...he’s in here somewhere.”

The girl looked at him, a mixture of emotions on her face, though the prevailing one seemed to be lingering fear.

“What’s your name?” Jericho asked, kicking himself he hadn’t asked sooner.

“Rachel.” She answered, voice a little hoarse. “I don’t know how I found you or what that man wants. Though I think it’s because…” She trailed off, looking out of her window.

“Because of your powers.” Jericho guessed.

Rachel’s head snapped back around.

Jericho stifled a chuckle. “Lucky guess.” He said, glancing at her. “Like recognizes like.”

Rachel relaxed. “So you’ll help me? All of you?”

“Well the Body’s ‘added you to his mission parameters’, so I’d say that’s a hard yes.” Jericho replied.

Rachel gave a tentative smile and the fog shifted. Jericho fought to keep his expression relaxed as his heart leapt.

Well then. If that wasn’t Dick giving his approval, Jericho didn’t know what was.

 _We're going to be alright_ , Jericho thought. And for the first time since he'd found out the truth about his dad, he actually believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am planning a sequel to this, one of many Season 1 AU fic ideas rattling around in my head. It'll be in the series 'Everything Ends' so bookmark that if you want to be notified when it eventually gets posted (not till the new year I'm afraid).  
> Still trying to finish a Titans Christmas fic and have some other projects I need to finish so, yeah.  
> Hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading!  
> :D


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